


His Years, No Longer His

by bethonie (Formula_Tea)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: POV Second Person, Suicide, Terminal Illnesses, all things sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3167540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Formula_Tea/pseuds/bethonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where it is possible for suicidal people to give the rest of their years alive to a terminally ill child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Years, No Longer His

**Author's Note:**

> This really isn't happy. In anyway. Sorry.

Something’s wrong. You’re not sure what, but Felipe isn’t himself. You’re not the only one who’s noticed. You’ve had three mechanics come up and ask you why he’s down. As if you should know. You are his best friend, after all. You _should_ know.

He goes about testing trying to pretend there’s nothing wrong but even when he’s smiling he isn’t. You can’t explain it. It’s like something inside him has given up.

You ask at lunch because if you won’t ask, nobody will. He tries to deny it, at first, but there’s no getting out of this.

“Is… is Felipinho,” he says, eventually.

Nothing follows, so you nod and urge him on. When he doesn’t explain further you give him some crap about needing to clear his head. Then you give him some more crap about being there for him. And you are. If he can’t turn to you, who can he turn to?

Felipe sighs and, when he looks up at you again, his eyes are dead.

“He is ill.”

 

You don’t talk about it again for a long time.

You didn’t talk about it much to begin with. Felipe tries to explain what’s wrong but he doesn’t understand himself and you shake your head and tell him it doesn’t matter. You tell him he knows where to find you. You tell the rest of the team he’s not feeling good, and he’s gone home.

When he comes back, he’s back to his usual self. You don’t feel any need to say anything about what he’d tried to explain.

Then you go to see Felipinho.

It’s his birthday, and it’s your duty to buy him the most annoying toy imaginable. You go to deliver it personally because Felipe and Raffaela will try to stop him getting it once they realise how annoying the toy is.

Only when you show up at the house, he isn’t there.

 

“I told you that you could talk to me.”

“Maybe I did not want to.”

Silence for a little while, because what can you say?

“Fuck Felipe.”

“Am sorry,” he says. “I should have let you know.”

Your arms are around him again and you must have held him like this a million times before, but it’s never mattered like this before. None of that matters anymore.

 

“You can’t do that.”

You didn’t believe it at first. You were just looking for the simulator notes Felipe was supposed to give you last week when you found the forms. Of course you didn’t believe it. Those forms were for people who wanted to die and Felipe…

“Has been on the waiting list for nearly a year, Rob.”

He’s crying. Of course he is. He doesn’t talk about Felipinho without crying anymore. And you’re crying too, you realise a little too late.

“People donate all the time,” you say. “You don’t need to.”

“He does not have long left,” he says. “I cannot live without him.”

“And I can’t live without you,” you say. Almost. The words don’t cross your lips. You’re both already in hysterics. You don’t need that as well.

You just shake your head. “I’ll rip it up.”

“Will get another,” Felipe says with more confidence than he’s said anything since all this came out.

“You can’t do this,” you say with none of the confidence he has.

“I can’t not.”

 

Life goes on and, eventually, your glad Claire and Frank convinced you not to quit. Eventually. You watch drivers come and go and it isn’t really the same but you don’t want that again.

The boys grow up. The boys grow up far too soon for your liking, of course. There’s a period of time you don’t remember. Months, a few years after the procedure that are no longer part of your life. But you’re there for them now. That’s the important thing.

Things get back on track eventually. You’re happy again eventually.

 

“…Massa…”

You’re in a corridor in the factory, on your hourly coffee run, when you bubble pops. You can feel the happiness, the normality, seep from the hole and you want to carry on and pretend everything is ok, but you can’t.

“Seems to be doing pretty good this year. People in GP2 are already looking at him.”

You think you’re going to be sick, the last of the normality leaving you. But you go into the room, because you need to know what they’re talking about.

“Rob?”

Claire jumps up as soon as you’re in the room and tries to help you into a chair but you’re not an invalid and you wave her away, preferring to stand anyway.

“What you talking about?” you ask, and it’s not supposed to sound as accusing as it does.

Claire looks down at her number two, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Erm, new drivers,” Claire says. “We were thinking… when the contracts end… we should probably have a shake up.”

Things aren’t working again. They’ve hit another slump. But they’ll recover. They always do.

“Yeah?”

“Some of the Formula three boys look pretty good,” number two says.

“Yeah?”

Both of them are hiding something. You can see that. You haven’t quite figured out what, because everything your brain is saying doesn’t make any sense.

“Don’t panic, Rob,” Claire says, gently.

“I’m not going to panic.”

“We were thinking… Felipe’s son?”


End file.
